


Providence, Idiots, and Boys Who Become Men

by That_Familiar_Feeling



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Diners, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Character Study, Here have this, I made two ocs and accidentally wrote them a 12 year long story my bad, Multi, Narratively speaking I had to do something with him, Ryan is multi layered y'all, also this is very southern my bad, look i just kinda threw it together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 17:47:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14959208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_Familiar_Feeling/pseuds/That_Familiar_Feeling
Summary: "There is a special Providence that watches over idiots, drunken men, and boys." - Thomas Bailey AldrichWhen two men come wandering into her diner, the first thing on her mind is,"Don't you dare put blood on those seats because I'll be the only one to clean them" and "You jerks better tip me well."She didn't expect to befriend them, she didn't expect to somehow help nurture whatever dream they had burning in their souls like embers.She certainly never thought she'd grow old beside them. That she'd love every fiber and bone in every single one of their bodies in a way only a mother can. That somehow, her story would only begin after 12 p.m on a Wednesday night.-------In which I began an intense character study of the FAHC: Pre crew, the height of the crew, and the present day allotment of characters.But then accidentally wrote over 18,000 words of OC content to go with this character study...My bad?





	Providence, Idiots, and Boys Who Become Men

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't mean to write this and then post it.  
> By that, I mean, that I wrote all this by pure luck- didn't realize how long it actually was, and then had no other choice but the post it so HERE YA GO. 
> 
> Providence is amazing and I kinda wanna be like her when I grow up???

  
Providence, and yes that is her God-given "Christian" name, is not a slight woman.  
She doesn't shy away from a challenge, she never has.  
Not when she was a toddler and the older kids pushed her down, she got right back up and dug her heels in the next go around.  
Not when she was twenty-two and decided to "give it a try" just to appease her parents, only to end up knocked-up and very certain she wanted nothing to do with the appendages in which caused her predicament.  
And especially not now, when she is twenty-three, struggling to pay rent in the worst god damn forsaken city this side of the states while trying to singular raise a brilliant son.

She refuses to cower behind the counter with the other night-shift waitress and cook after two men come bumbling into the diner completely soaked with something mingy, and splattered in blood with two feral grins.  
She whips out her order pad and charges in head first. Her coworkers watch in horror as she snatches up the carafe of black coffee, their strongest batch tonight as it stands, two mugs tucks her pencil behind her ear and marched over to their little corner booth.

The men are obviously at well standing with each other, so she isn't exactly worried they'll start brawling in the middle of her section.   
They look jovial, if not exhausted. She remembers the exact face the red-head is making back when she was still in college the minute her biggest final was finished. She takes in this unrestrained relief, and her own tension eases.

They look young, but hardened. Like the city itself was still aging them even at rest.

"Welcome to Joes', coffee?" she jostles the pot a fraction and gets twin nods so she plops the mugs down and fills them up to the perfect pitch, plenty enough room for a heap of sugar and cream or plenty enough for just black. She kinda wants to cackle because the one with a rough looking shave grins and dumps a very unhealthy amount of sugar into his coffee while the redhead takes a much more moderate approach.

"Joes' huh? kinda weird way to name something'" and god that accent takes her back years, right back to stupidly hot summers and bitterly cold winters and the muggiest heatwaves the south could shove into a single day. She just shrugs,"We don't even know Joe" she supplies succinctly and that makes the guy laugh; a big hearty laughter and it sounds stupidly happy for a guy with blood still coming out of his nose.

The other one grins too, and he has the decency to grab some napkins and hold off the gore coming from a snag on his forehead. "Who does anymore?" he kids and she giggles a little. With a flourish, she pulls out the notepad and taps her pencil,"So, besides the coffee is there anything you guys want for drinks?"

In what might be the most sincerely baffling move ever, the laughy one frowns and picks up the menu, carefully considering the solid six drink options before shrugging- "Lemonade."  
Providence quirks her brow,"Lemonade."   
He nods back, one short time and it makes it floppy hair go wild,"Yes Mam."

She huffs a laugh and shakes her head, scribbling away as she murmurs, "Mam.."

The red-head just shrugs and hold his mug, "Coffee is good for me thanks."   
With a nod she takes the carafe up, dumps her pad into her big apron pocket, "Alright, I'll give you gents some time to decide your food- please try to keep the blood off the upholstery if you can, we have to clean our sections ourselves and we ran out of white wine years ago..." she gives a solid nod and spins on her heel- whisking back to the counter bar to grab the guys lemonade.

They seemed pretty amused at that one, or maybe amused by her flippant attitude, but as they decide their food she sees the very obvious attempt they take to check their seats for any smearing. She gives them some time, but when she takes the lemonade over she drops two makeshift ice packs down in between them and whips her pad out again.

She can practically hear Debbie fainting from the kitchen.

The red-head smiles kindly, and it is bizarre because in this part of time no one smiles kindly anymore- he gingerly picks the ice pack up and covers the mottled bruising forming over his left hand. The other guy just drops the pack onto his knee and sighs- and then proceeds to launch into a horrific movie worthy rant good diners and classic appeals and how he'll take three of these omelets and pray they look like their photos with a side of hashbrowns and a small platter of sausage, please. With extra tomatoes and onions, but fewer mushrooms.  
His dinner mate looks utterly over his antics, but doesn't say anything about the bill and orders himself a more moderate meal of way-too-many-flapjacks, with the strawberry syrup please and if you have any powdered sugar I'll pay extra for it.  
She jots it all down, agrees with the other man- Geoff as it turns out because the red-head, Jack, chides him for too much grease on a separate plate when he could just cut down the dishwashing by throwing the sausage on the omelettes, with a pleading look Providence simple jots it down and gives the men a thumbs up before whisking away.

Waiting for the food to cook is exquisite; because they sit there and bicker for the entire time.  
"You shouldn't be so careless with that car-"  
"We got out right? I can just...buff her out later right??"  
"Geoff, you have t drive that car all day tomorrow there is literally no time to get it looked at!"  
"Sheila is wonderfully fine thank you very much!" Geoff exclaims excitedly before settling back into his seat with a pained huff.

As the minutes tick by and the conversation goes to a more personal, hushed side, Providence catalogs each little wince and grimace they throw around until her teeth ache and she's digging into her purse in the "break" room for her bottle of ibuprofen. She takes the bottle, some new ice packs, and some clean rags over when she grabs their plates and serves it up.

she puts either plate down to its respective owner gently plops the bottle down with the new packs, and then dumps the rags at the end of the table. "If you need anything else, I'll be at the counter so just wave-your server for tonight was Providence." she taps her name tag, gets the most amused grin from Jack and a guffaw from Geoff who is already digging in and giggling around eggs until he starts coughing and Jack starts laughing.

They eat in relative peace for a while, but everyone in the diner pauses when a siren goes by about thirty minutes later. Geoff actually slides further into his seat and Jack rolls his eyes, tucking into his fifth flapjack with less fervor than the fourth.   
The noise passes, everyone breaths, an' they eat.

It's an hour later, a full hour and thirty minutes since closing- Providence sent the cook and Debbie home and twirled the keys on her pinky when they thought to question her; when the pair sheepishly stack their plates and start digging through their wallet. Just the one, which they appear to share?  
Geoff is the one to approach, and it is suddenly clear to her that of the duo he's the one in charge.  
Something of her thought must register because for a second he seems deeply pleased and puffs his chest up, like a kid being told, "You'll make a fine man someday."

He passes over way too many bills, and while she is busy counting to find the right change- Geoff and Jack titter and abscond from her diner.  
She gaps at them, then at their table which has been neatly reassembled: plates and utensils stacked, mugs on top. The rags and pill bottle deposited on the floor rather than sully the table- and what looks like a wayward napkin.  
She counts out almost a hundred dollars- and knows the meal barely cost thirty.

She pockets the tip, it is a tip and no one will ever know to question her about it, and sets about cleaning their table.

The note says, in a neat drawl that she pins as Jack's: "Sorry for the mess, Thank you for the wonderful meal and service- if you ever need a favor," and then followed by a number.

She pockets the note as well- because in this city a favor can be life or death.

* * *

  
The next time they come in, they are far neater and cleaner.

There's Fleetwood Mac warbling through the radio, Dreaming ironically, when they amble in and take up the same booth as before.  
It's the middle of the day though, and they look to be relatively uninjured compared to last time. Jack has a bruise on his jaw that still seems sore by the way he flexes the muscle, and Geoff is sporting the worst looking hogan style beard. But it seems there is potential because he's clearly growing it out at the sides purposefully

Next to Geoff and across from Jack is someone new though.  
The kid, gotta be he's so scrawny, looks like someone burnt a dinner roll in the toaster oven. His skin is patchwork tan and natural gold, and his hair is obviously growing out from a home-down hair job of a darker color. He grins at Geoff and looks a little shy when Jack addresses him, so she figures him to be Geoff's companion first and foremost.

Debbie isn't morning or afternoon- but Providence can practically hear her little old lady shriek.

Providence works past the crowd with her notebook at the ready and beams at the trio in pleasant greeting, the smile returned in two-fold and a little shy from the third. He's adorable and her momness wants to feed him pie.  
"Welcome back gents!" she crows in that stupid sweet server voice and Geoff cracks up, this seems to ease the kid some and she counts it as a win.  
"Are we doing coffee again or is it really that hot outside?" she uses her pin to point out the disgusting lawn gnome thermometer taped to the wall reading well over 80.

Jack hums and taps his fingers, working his jaw again and she absently jots into her mental notepad "ice pack". "Sweet tea please," he decides and she does jot that one down.

"I'm predictable, sue me, lemonade mam." this time it’s accompanied by a wink and she play scowls at him.

The kid takes a second, looking over his options, now including a seventh option of not so sweet iced tea because it sells well in the heat and goes well with pie, "Uh..how about..."  
His accent strikes her as totally odd and perfectly suited to the bizarre troupe these two men must keep around, she refrains from grinning outright until he picks Dr. Pepper and she tells them,"Take your time, our "special" today is the Joes' Monster burger and we have great strawberry pie at the front of our dessert list for today." she whisks away and starts filling their drinks as soon as she can.

Sure she could go get another order, but it feels important to serve them first for some reason. She stops by the kitchen, and when she drops off their drinks she also presses an ice pack to Jack's hand and gives him a smile before working around her station again.

She hears the kid, or maybe slightly older than a kid, asking them questions and getting kinda serious answers.  
"You know her?"   
"Sure, she's our waitress. So, what about the car situation?"  
"Can't drive, you come here a lot?"  
"Not at all and not at all?"  
"Nope, and she seems top."  
"Ha, top- you're so brit..."  
That’s not even proper wordage.."  
"That, is not proper wordage.."

She bustles around, refilling and grabbing orders and welcoming new customers before she slides back to their table and taps her pad- "Alright then gents and gentle lad," she beams at his squawk and Geoff's cheerful guffaw.  
She gets two orders of the special, and then for the not-kid-totally-kid-guy two plates of super fatty fries and less special burgers- ordered by Geoff who seems determined to parent this guy right now and Providence just adds,"And would you like extra fries or pickles?"   
"Yes to both please" before the guy even has a chance to huff.

She twirls away and gives the order to the line- works some more tables, listens idly to their conversation.  
Gavin- his name is Gavin, he is very fidgety, no not a kid but he's not able to drink yet either, and he has nowhere to stay in this city.

By the time she gets their food back- she has overhead and eavesdropped enough to know that yes, Geoff is in charge here, he's absolutely going to board an feed this guy, and Jack is going to give himself a headache from the fond eye rolls and bruising, which she is fairly certain now he got for Gavin's sake and that’s why the guy is so shy- he's utterly entranced by these two.

This time, it takes two hours, TWO HOURS, for them to get gone.   
They eat, they talk, laugh, play with their wrappers- she gets Jack a new ice pack once.  
Her manager seems a little miffed but she promises they'll pay good and brings them their three plates of pie and ice-cream.

First bite and Jack looks like he's in heaven, Geoff following right behind him and Gavin just seems happy their happy.  
"How?" is the only word she hears in their rambling mumbling food strokes, and she beams proudly as she always does and says,"Baked them fresh two hours ago, they just got out when you got in. I've been perfecting that recipe for ten years..."

Geoff looks about ready to melt and only Jack can keep him from ordering the rest of the pie.

She floats around afterward, wonderfully smug about her pie and momness that keeps checking on Jack's jaw when she can catch a peek.

By the time they get done- the other customers seem equally amused and her manager is only partially irate.  
Again Geoff pays- and gives a very generous tip, "Split down the middle if you please, one for the Mrs. over there and the rest for you." he snarks and she laughs, her manager now looks like a kid on Christmas when she sees the forty dollar tip. She doesn't see the other forty-one dollars that Providence snags for her kids next birthday present.

The trio files out, Geoff ruffles Gavin's hair and the kid looks ready to fall over either from the new weight settling in after those burgers, or the weight of affection they keep throwing him.

She looks forward to their next visit

* * *

  
They don't come back. For a little while at least.

It's almost midnight, the diner closes at two am. It's the only one this side of town that stays open so late but doesn't stay open 24-7.

Providence didn't normally work the graveyard shift, it was dangerous and boring and she had a one and a half-year-old to take care of. Said child is tuckered out in the booth directly in front of her stand at the counter, wrapped in her old leather jacket and doing peacefully.

The cook is her only companion, and she needs the overtime that she is apparently getting. Stupid damn Barb cutting loose at the last second...

The bell jingles, and she almost expects her favorite stragglers to come waltzing in bloodied and sodden- but instead its a rather somber looking fellow who drags himself to a booth at the back and sinks into the worn chair.  
She hums, something French and from an old game she once played and takes up her sword, the notepad, and her shield, the fresh carafe of coffee- and shimmies over.

The radio is broken, or maybe it's a bad cover, because Jolene has played for the second time and the wonderful sultry voice of Dolly is coming out slow and sound more like a tired man on a greyhound than a woman singing to adoring fans.

She sidles up to his booth, he jolts a little like a skittish colt, and she takes in the tired eyes and hard set jaw with a quick assessment.  
"Good-" she checks her watch and shrugs,"Morning, coffee?" she offers first and he looks a little surprised at first, clearly reaching up for something, before apparently getting his bearings and shaking it off. "Yes mam.." his accent is reminiscent of the south, not quit layered like she's familiar with, more like he's been out of hometown for a good long while.

She smiles absently at the Mam thing, again with the mam does she look that tired or are her batch of oddballs just REALLY well-mannered, and pours him a healthy mug.  
"Sugar and creamer right there, you need a minute to order anything or is coffee all?"   
She taps at her pad, the same song dizzying around her head as she counts the beat of the song- she's right, the radio is off and playing slower than it should at a funny pitch, and apparently looping.

He frowns, like he's piecing together the words, then nods,"A minute, please."

She hums, taps twice like she's playing poker, and whisks away. But in her getting-there-too-used-to-it eye, she catches sight of his bruised knuckles and the dry blood around his nails.  
She doesn't mention it, knows in some instinctive part it'd be bad too...and she glances over at James in the booth sleeping soundly.  
No need to make anyone upset, the man just wants his coffee.

She gives him a little time, and out of habit she grabs one of the pre-made ice packs from the freezer. The cook is watching something on his phone and pays her no mind...

When she goes back out, she almost drops the pack and her pen- her heart going dead stop.

James got up, dammit he really is walking better she'll absolutely need some new kid gates...  
And the first thing e chose to do was waddle his little diaper ass over to the invariably dangerous stranger.  
Said stranger looks utterly nonplussed and is smiling beatifically at her son, his early unease and air of mystery completely deflated at the sight of a curly-headed blond terror waddling his way.

She regains her footing and scurries over, apologies already spilling out of her lips and her hands deftly scooping the little boy up with ease.  
The stranger just grins and shrugs,"I think he heard me come in.." he points at the bastard bell system and she nods swiftly.  
"I'm sorry, really, not for the kid infestation because we don't have one I swear, but its really late and I can't afford a babysitter and he just started learning how to walk..." she rambles and smooths his unruly curls down but he just smiles at her with that dopey sleepy smile she loves and she holds him close for a second.

The guy takes it in stride, just nods and shrug,"Run before they walk huh?" he waves a little to the little boy who beams back, she finds his easy relaxation both calming and alarming because wow the guy did a 180.  
"Well, James was running before he was even born," she replies and the guys jolts a little, then laughs. Its a healthy, loud laugh that almost cuts into a cackle but doesn't seem TOO sinister..

"Well no wonder, seems we share the most common name alive.." he says it casually, but she sees him tense like he didn't mean to give her his name. She just pauses,"Oh...well..ha I guess so. To be honest I was in a real mood when he was born and when he came out screaming hellfire I kinda just...threw out the first name on my mind..."

He frowns, its a cute uptick sort of pause, with a canine-like tilt to his head that makes his black air sway. Its long, she noticed the ponytail before- but she hadn't noticed how it is dyed. The roots are just faintly lighter.  
"James doesn't exactly scream 'been on my mind'..."

She laughs, and the boy huffs and snuffles into her collar. She pats his head,"No, but when he was born I was cussing his daddy six days from Sunday and screaming, "Should have been a James Dean' and maybe I'd stand bein' near him.."

The guy barely suppressed his laughter, cackling into his sleeve to not disturb the toddler and she's very grateful for it.  
"James Dean? Oh, he'll get along here just fine."

She nods, and with a quick gesture, she carefully places the toddler down in his booth again before returning with her notepad and the dewy ice pack. He eyes the icepack warily, but she shrugs and plops it on the table all the same."So, what'll it be?"  
He frowns at the menu, plucking it up with his still stained but thankfully dried fingers. Nimble, maybe works with hands more than anything else-

"What is...a.." he frowns and she already knows what’s coming next,"Wander Yonder the Wider Yard." He barely gets out all the consonants and totally flubs the last part but she takes in stride because that’s the point of the pie.  
"Blackberry and Honey, with oatmeal topping. Get it cause, you gotta wander to wider wards if you want more berries." She knows it doesn't make sense, she was very tired when she made it up.

But he just grins, little and unsure, and she knows it must be a little nostalgic because the pie always makes her think of home and from him trying to say the name she knows he is at least south of Tennessee.

"One slice of, that, please." he sets the menu back neatly and with little fanfare she flits off the get his slice.  
She glances back, both to see her son sleeping soundly again, and to see the man gingerly placing the ice pack on his hand.

It seems she has gained a new oddball.  
Wonderful.

He doesn't take long,"Won't hold you up any longer," he says as he pays and it's almost like an inside joke, like they both get the intended pun happening here and how weird is that to joke about and be okay with on either end. She almost misses him giving her a twenty dollar tip and a napkin that says,"Good babysitters around here aren't cheap. Pick smart."

After he leaves, again tidy table well-mannered oddballs, she loves it, she sends the cook home and locks up and begins the walk to her car with her little cargo pressed to her side.  
It doesn't occur to her until she's sliding on her jacket, that the man's was blue and black and had a neatly pressed line between the colors. That it was the same jacket she's seen on the news in grainy photographs and giant warning labels.

It does occur to her, that she must be insane, because she genuinely doesn't let it bother her in the slightest.

* * *

That very first night, she had taken the money and phone number with no questions.

She serves that odd trio two more times before she needs that favor.

She put the number in her phone, listed under "Well-Mannered Gents one and two".   
She's walking out of a late shift, they hadn't shown that night and neither had her new regularly who only frequented the graveyard hours, HA, and also left her a tip although it was slighter than the other twos.  
She's heading home, taking a back road to avoid the apparent wreck on the main one to the other side of town- when someone starts beating down her window and points a gun at her head.

She's not a slight woman at all, but she was raised to fear god just as well as the other congregators.  
The guy doesn't shoot, thank god, because she has no kind she can trust James to and she can't very well tell the babysitter why she didn't show if she's splattered on the sidewalk. He does hit her, hard, unnecessary in every bit of honesty. He hits her across the head, drags her out of her car, and takes off with her purse and that night's wage leaving her completely abandoned and stunned slumped in the road.

She cries, doesn't realize she is, and can't imagine why she deserves this other than the fact she had flirted with the check-out lady to get a better deal on her frozen orange juice.  
It would have been FREE...FREE.

She sits there dazed, and then she scoots her way over to the sidewalk and sits with her legs awkwardly slumped in the gutter.  
She half-heartedly feels up her chest, finds her phone thankfully tucked into her bra because she knows better than to carry a purse in this town but not well enough to know to always check her mirrors.

She thumbs through her contacts with bleary eyes and can't think of a single person who will drag themselves out of bed to take her home, her head hurts, she's crying and she needs to see her baby right now.  
Her thumb swings the list wide and out of random luck, it settles with "Well-Mannered Gents one and two" smack dab in the middle of her screen.  
Its laugh or cry at this point, and she kind needs to hear their laughing because when Geoff laughs she feels like the day will be sunny with a side of chaos. She got chaos covered and needs some sunshine.

It takes four rings, because of course why would two upstanding civil folks like their ilk trust a random number, she's not stupid she gets they aren't well-to-do but they treat her nice and her diner nicer, and when it clicks on she can tell they await her voice.  
"H-hello?" she has to pull back to catch her breath and shudder in the chill of the night because rain seems to be on the way and her jacket was in the car...

The call stays quiet but then she hears a familiar voice come through in all his tinny glory,"Hello? Who is this?" its suspicion and just a hint of familiarity because of course, she sounds like a wreck and not like their cheerful waitress.

"You, you said to call if I ever needed a favor..." she murmurs and hiccups and she tries not to think about how close to orphan her little boy came to being just because an asshole wanted her car and couldn't think to ask nicely.

Suddenly the voice is back, and registering the caller, and she hears Jack loud and clear,"Oh yeah, Providence? Is everything okay? What's going on?"  
She smiles at his clear concern and hiccups again,"Well, to start I'm marooned on Fifth and Paisley and my head hurts and everything hates him right now because-" its raining, cold rain, and she’s crying and murmuring and she hears Jack curse and talk to someone on his end of the line before he comes back to her,"Providence? It's alright, Geoff is heading out there right now. Just take a deep breath for me-"

Jack talks her down from hysteria for all of ten minutes before a beat up dull pink, maybe once bright but now looking like grandma's tacky lipstick, pulls up at her side and Geoff comes rushing out in a rush of words.  
For her part, she just whimpers and cries and Geoff carefully pries the phone from her hand to tell Jack he's got her and that he's taking her home now and he'll be back home soon.

With a quick motion, she's got his jacket wrapped around her and is being ushered into his car like a hen counting her brood and putting them to bed in the nest.  
They get in the car and he's still fussing, pressing some napkins to her head because she's apparently bleeding and the sight of her own blood makes her start crying harder again and he's frantically trying to soothe her and calm her trembling.

It takes some time, but she gets to point where she can breath and the bleeding stopped mixing with her wet hair and she can explain herself.  
Geoff for his part, takes it in stride, like he rescues damsels all the time and doesn't do whatever it is he does to give her such big tips all the time.  
He growls and grits his teeth when she explains how her assailant left her in the street dazed and stunned, then nods and reassures her when she starts blubbering about her baby and just wanting to be home.

She doesn't think twice to give him her address, doesn't at all consider it ill-advised to tell questionable characters her name, her child's birthday, and her home address. Geoff just chats, amicable and cheerful and distracting her from her terrible fortune.  
She asks about home, his accent, he admits to being born and bred in south Alabama and she laughs because she was a northern Alabama gal back in her youth. Does he ever miss the heat? Who would when it’s worse here, at least its not muggy- god that was awful wasn't it hahaha.  
She learns a good bit about him in the hour it takes to get home.

Geoff Ramsey, Alabamian who despised it, lived poor like she did but got out sooner. Lived in this city for a little while, decided he needed a job and needed some friends to get it.

He tells her, in a simple and not at all clear way that he's always wanted to be the guy everyone's heard of. That the city, this city, was his stepping stone to a glorious empire. She laughs with him, but not for a second does she doubt what he's saying.

Geoff drives quickly but safely, getting her home his top priority but he's abiding all the traffic rules and keeping her calm. He's calm, but she can see the tension in his hands and she sees how angry he is at her misfortune- she sees a man who can't stand a bully. She sees a good man trying to do a good thing- and she sees the bad man in there as well, the man who clearly now has an enemy and she doesn't doubt at all he's planning to do something about it.

They pull up to her apartment complex, she sees her sitter waiting in the window anxiously and she feels fresh tears threaten her eyes.   
He tells her to keep the jacket on, walks her up to her door, promises her that she's alright and that no- the checkout woman is not at fault for an asshole being an asshole and that he'd love to hear about this free orange juice sometime, which leads to him taking his number into his phone and listing it under "The most handsome man alive" along with a crown emoji next to it and she laughs and thanks him profusely. He waves it off, reclaims his coat, and disappears into the night again.

Her sitter is appalled, on her behalf of course, and makes her a cup of tea before going home. James is safe in bed and she sinks into her couch to think about what she’s going to do now she doesn't have a car. She decides to file a report tomorrow morning after she rests.

There’s no need, because when she wakes up and goes to check her mailbox, there’s a freshly painted car literally with her name taped to it and a note in the front seat along with her purse, her paycheck, and a little Debbie cake sitting on her leather jacket. The key she finds in the tire-well after she notices the little bit of dry eraser pointing it out.

"Make that one 'Hustler' pie again and we're even. Sorry for all the trouble, please enjoy your new sick wheels. Have a nice day Mam. -G,J,G

She doesn't bother to question it, just smiles and shakes her head and splits the snack cake with James when she gets back up with the keys twirling around her pinky.

* * *

 

She makes them two pies, has their orders memorized, and doesn't hesitate to thank them unbidden.  
Jack just nods, calm and sure and she can tell a good man when she sees two- because Geoff just shrugs and says "No biggie" and Gavin is still steaming about it but he greets her with utter joy. She's joined the mother hen brigade and he's clearly sporting the benefits of it with some real meat on his bones and a fresh dye in his hair that brings it back to normal.

* * *

 

Two more people join the party in time, and the booth is getting busy. So busy that they end up pulling an empty tables chair over and Geoff sits on the outside of the booth with it pointed deliberately catty-corner to the edge of the booth seat, carefully to stay out of the traffic of other customers.

Gavin introduces them as his Lads, his 'Boi' is Michael and the word turpentine comes to mind when she takes in his unruly curls and 'out to get the world before it gets me' scowl. He's polite though, and he picks up the Mam thing and roll with it much to her chagrin and Geoff's delight.

Ray is Michael's friend, she can tell already. He's quiet and he keeps looking to Geoff and Jack like he expects some kind of turn around and for them to kick the duo to curb. But there's admiration there, and genuine affection when Gavin starts up a round of 'would you rather' that Providence's answer sends the table into a tumble.  
Michael has an accent too, north-eastern, and he's got a temper that makes the other patrons turn and she gives him a pointed look from her register, to which he gets sky and apologizes with a shrug- immediately endearing him to her.

Ray is apparently the only one to question the utter casualness in which she treats the crew. It's a crew, it has to be, and she applauds Geoff on picking such amicable partners for his 'business'.   
But by the end of it, with enough fries, burgers, and strawberry lemonade to go with their "Motley Crew" pie- Geoff almost fell out of his chair with that one and Michael looked like he died and went to heaven at first bite- the five of them traipsed out with another generous tip and "thank you have a nice days"

She makes a new note to her mental notepad to stock more ice packs and painkillers in her stash, then buys her and James ice cream for dinner.

* * *

 

The other James only shows up occasionally, and he always looks dead tired when he does. It's always pie and coffee at two am.   
He doesn't talk a lot, and he's always got some kind of injury or another- but they get along well enough.

Especially after one particularly memorable occasion, when he came slinking in with a pair of sunglasses on to poorly cover his giant black eye and busted lip.  
She took one look at him, huffed, got his coffee and that night's freshest pie slice- then plopped herself down in his booth with a fresh wet rag and pack of frozen beans.

He jolted, eyed her warily, before his shoulders slumped and it seemed she wormed herself past whatever issue of his there was. He accepted the offered items gratefully and hissed at the sting.

She just eyed him, and he squirmed under her scrutiny.  
With sudden resolve, and a burning need to know, she asked: "Did you win."

He paused, considered it, then in a sudden and kinda terrifying turn, his face split into a wide grin. His lip pulled back more snarl than a smile, and his eyes crinkled with delight.  
"I always win."

* * *

 

That's her life for a little while.

James turns two, and she hauls him around the diner for his birthday and because the manager is currently on leave and can't tell her best waitress no.  
In coincidence- not at all because they never seem to leave now- the gang finally gets to say hi.

Geoff is a maniac and makes the dumbest cooing sounds, Gavin does to and starts with "Baby!" which makes Providence cackle. Michael looks genuinely amused and for once not an ounce of rage or underlying anger is present on his face. Ray just balks and scoots back, clearly not accustomed to kids, and Jack is already reaching into his bag and pulling out a brightly wrapped present.

Providence beams, bright and wonderful and it sets the whole table into smiles,"You remembered?!" she laughs and James is already making grabby hands.  
It's a music box. A god damn handmade music box that plays a tinkling version of jukebox hero that sends her into titters and fascinates James.  
"Course we remembered," Geoff says- and suddenly Providence knows that whatever this crew is, she is an unspoken member of it. A quiet background character to their story, and if Geoff's conviction has stuck with her this long- she knows she's a side character to something historical.

  
That night, after James is sent home with the sitter and is completely exhausted by his new best friends, Geoff was absolutely certain he was his best friend- Gavin was his least to which Gavin squawked and James giggled... Providence still had to work the graveyard shift and was dragging around by the time her other regular came in.

He looked good, better than the other times. He declined the coffee and went for a diet-coke instead because everything else was sinful.  
They sat over pie and pops and chatted, they'd gotten into the routine of this in the past month. Just chatting because lonely people like to talk to people willing to listen.

When it was time to close, and the cook was long gone, James pulls out a little brown wrapped package and hands it over.   
"You mentioned his birthday coming up, and I can't leave another James out in the cold so-"

It was, of all things, a hand carved crown.  
"James means little king" he grins like it’s another inside joke and she laughs and pats his arm fondly. The guy is obviously older than her, but she feels the need to mother him all the same.

James loves the crown and refuses to take it off for months.

* * *

 

The first time her motley crew comes stumbling in beaten up and bloody, she's more than ready.  
Jack's sporting an arm in a sling, a bruised nose, and a dangerous scowl.

Gavin's fidgeting, but unharmed, which tells her he doesn't work front lines, which she had already assumed and should be more surprised by her ability to deduce such knowledge easily.

Geoff is frowning deeply and digging through his phone at a shutter speed she can't register, obvious making calls and texts and chewing people out just by his facial expression alone. He's just as busted up and favoring his right side.

Michael and Ray are battered the most. Michael's nose won't stop dribbling and he tries to keep it stuffed and is seemingly well-informed of Providence's "no blood, no guns, no shouting" rules. Ray looks haggard, limping from the booth to the bathroom and then back. He keeps drifting and keeps getting jostled by Jack- and she can see the blood in his hair after he finally does away with the rumpled hoody.

It takes her all of two seconds to decide- she tells the cook to start some burgers and fries, she flips the open sign to closed- and then digs out all of her ice pack, bandages, and painkillers. She dumps them all in a pile on the table- gives them all a very disapproving frown that they all flinch back from and apologize for the mess- but she waves it off and tells them to go wash their damn hands.

After the food is done, she sends the cook home, calls her sitter, and then drags a pair of chairs over to the booth. She points at Ray who jolts in slight fear, because she's storming and she knows it, but he concedes when she tells him to put his leg up and cover his probably twisted/sprained ankle with ice and a towel.  
Michael looks just as stormy, and she doesn't both to talk to him- just gently tilts his head up with her finger and swaps his napkins for a rag. He hums thanks and its muffled awfully but she'll take it.

Geoff gets a coffee, a coffee in a gentle pat on the shoulder, gratefully taking the ice pack from her hands. He doesn't argue at all when she says,"Now we're even."

Jack gets a decent sized ice pack, some painkillers, and she checks his nose to see if her butterfly bandage will do any good. He just smiles at her and half shrugs,"They got lucky, we're good though..."

Gavin is not good, she says as much and all eyes turn to the panicking kid. He just shakes his head frantically and she rolls her eyes before she puts her arm over his shoulder, tells him to breathe and sip his water, please.

How the hell she ended up nursing a crew of criminals- a side gig to her apparent profession as their favorite waitress ever- she'll never know.  
But she does, and she serves them food and tells Ray that he thought to just take off the hoodie because he's still bleeding from his head onto the hood itself. That makes Michael huff, and he pushes a wet rag to the other man's head. Ray for his part is at least conscious and leans into it like a sleepy cat.

These people are dangerous, and she could one day get in huge trouble because of them- but she still doesn't hesitate to close up around them and chat amiably with them as they rest and eat.   
She tells them about her disastrous one and only time with a man, they all laugh and it eases the tension considerably- she explains the James Dean bit and Geoff is bawling with laughter.

She learns Michael is in fact from New Jersey, Ray from New York, Gavin from Oxfordshire, and Jack is from Austin Texas. They all love video games, and approve of her meager collection she can never get back too. Jack hums in understanding, now getting why she's always humming that damn song.  
It's quiet, they're fed and the adrenaline from their, whatever, has faded.

Geoff starts talking, and of course, she listens. And the rest seem surprised, but then not.

"A city needs a king" he declares. Jack nods,"And a Knight" he follows up.  
Gavin is quiet but then with a sudden seriousness Providence hadn't seen till tonight, says, "And a Bard."  
Michael looks exasperated, but he nudges Ray, "And Loyalists and Rebels." he grins, wildfire in his eyes and suddenly the burns on his hands make sense.  
Geoff nods, resting back against the booth seat. "A city needs a King, and it needs fire and brimstone." His voice takes her back to that car, to that first night he paid for their meal.

For a second, as they pause and let their little oath settle, Providence briefly considers, 'A city needs and executioner too...." and her mind drifts back to early morning conversations and wood dust on the vinyl.

"We're going to burn it to the ground," Geoff says quietly. And this must be a new part because the others listen enraptured. They must have been winging it until now.  
"Burn it down, build it up. No more bandits and highwaymen," he looks to Providence and she's absolutely certain that the man who stole her car didn't make it very far.

Providence works on gathering plates, clearing the trash, and snagging melted ice packs.  
"What’s a city, or a kingdom, without people to live in it." she offers with a grin of her own, one that draws in from a youth spent reckless and restless. The need to move move move burning back in her blood for the first time in a long time.

Geoff lights up, his whole face lifts and it takes years off of him. his mustache curls, and he both hates and loves that stupid handlebar stache.  
"Yes, it does. It absolutely does."

* * *

  
It's not too much longer before her worlds decide to combine.  
The crew comes in later than normal, all in a jovial mood and beaten but winning.

She suspects she'll be hearing about it on the news, that’s been happening a lot more and every time she is inexplicably proud.   
She doesn't suspect the new addition to the growing table. By this point, it’s easier to snag a small two person table from the corner and smush it against the booth's table. It's late enough that she doesn't mind, only two customers in the diner anyways and the first is already getting their check together.

The newcomer, is wearing...a mask. A god damn, spooky ass skull mask. He's foreboding as all hell and she eyes him with no little suss. But Geoff seems to be goading him into the conversation well enough, if the grunts and hmms are acceptable answers for him, then they are for her.

She comes over, and suddenly, she loses almost all reservation.   
The mask is, awful, she hates it, and the pure black leather jacket is cliche as fuck, but she recognizes those hands. She is more than acquainted with the scarred knuckles and the knicked thumb- she was there when that one happened.

The little knight shape chess piece was a little stained afterward, but she kept it all the same.

She pauses at the foot of the table, they all watch her curiously, before she breaks out into the widest most hysterical grin in her life.  
She knows, that he knows, that she knows who he is. The way his shoulders tense- and she knows that that's from him stopping his laughter because of course, they both can't resist the utter drama here.

She catches her breath, beams, and takes their order.

* * *

 

The Fakes.  
That's the name they take on.

It's at least three years after that first night. And it's their first official night as an official crew.  
They celebrate by wrecking the menu, ordering too much pie, and making Debbie swoon.   
No one even questions it, the cook gave up a long time ago and Debbie stopped stuttering months ago so progress.

Once again, the manager is on a bender and Providence has been placed into the role for the foreseeable future.

Geoff tells her once that she should buy the place. Buy it and only sells pies. She laughs, but she starts saving up money in a new account titled "Not a bad idea."

They're in good spirits, and by now she's absolutely caught into it.

Michael and Gavin are Bois, and whatever the one get the other gets and they split the difference in a show of pure sharing that would make a kindergarten teacher weep. Geoff and Jack are even stronger now, closer and settled in at the head of the booth. Geoff sits proudly, not like the slouch she had first seen him in from her corner window. Jack is picking some healthier options now, determinedly working away that 'baby fat'. Ryan joins in now, and its Ryan here. He stills keeps his head tucked, but he must trust them now because he keeps the mask off during the day visits. He's been apart of the crew for a year- and she can see the change it has made on his mind clear as night.

They still get together to chat over pie, a bit sporadically, but its still their time. He urges her to flirt more with the new neighbor with the most darling lab mix. She pokes and prods until he admits he likes these people and it scares him- she tells him that what point is there to win if no one can celebrate with you.  
He wins a lot more now, but he also admits to his losses.

It takes all of three weeks to see how close he and Ray got. If he admired Geoff and Jack, Ray practically worships Ryan. They get on like a house on fire, and she's got a bet going with Michael about where THAT goes.

The crew is strong, and settling into the long haul. Already their name is being whispered louder and louder. She can see it, can feel it coming.

* * *

The crew grows, expands, in and out like breathing.

The Fakes are the new to-bes of the city. They clear it out of its most unsavory assets and start filling the gaps with their people.   
James turns three and they celebrate by throwing him a party at the aquarium. He adores it, and when he starts talking well, he always asks for "Uncle Geoff and Uncle Rye."

Providence is by now, leading the business. She doesn't own it, not yet- not until a surprise donation comes in that just pushes her to what she needs and she gives them all a very pointed look before throwing down the sale papers. They celebrate with milkshakes and the 'Motley Crew' pie on standby.   
She renames the diner, "Joes'" becomes "Not Your Mam's Diner" or just "Mams" and Geoff laughs for a solid six minutes until he's wheezing and snort choking.

Life moves on, and they get bigger, and she sees more and more regulars coming and going and she has a whole other section in the freezer for her gents and lads, and the occasional gal that tags along. Lindsay is utterly delightful and she gives Michael hell for his mooning for weeks.

Which is fair, because she gives them all hell.  
Especially Ray and Ryan, who sit closer and closer at the booth- and who sit side by side when the morning is barely ticking over, she absolutely revels in joy the first time Ray tags along for Pie and Coffee.

  
They give her hell too, with blood and bruises- some hurried calls and one too many nights camped out on her sofa with a throbbing arm and broken leg. They always make up for it though, with fresh groceries and breakfast in the morning. She finally gets to move up, and finds herself right in the neighborhood of their rather well-stocked penthouse. For the first time in most of her life, she feels utterly secure and safe. She feels like her son has a good chance and that the dream they infected her with is real and beneath her fingertips.

* * *

The day comes when the world decides to say "Fuck you" and throws them against the wall.

They have a schedule, a set time to come in and say high.

For the first time in four years, its year five since she first said, "Welcome to Joes'"- they don't come to lunch. Or dinner. And James never shows up for coffee.  
She doesn't call, there's a protocol for this stuff. Sometimes things happen and she just has to wait it out.

But the entire day she is struck with the most awful feeling. This, deep-seated dread filling her up until she has an anxiety attack and has to go home early. She does, then she waits, and waits. And James comes home- good he's already six? He started first grade three days ago... he asks about his uncles and aunt Lindsay and he can already sense that something's wrong just by her face, which she can't school fast enough. They sit and watch tv, and wait. And wait.

The call comes, late at night. James is tuckered out and asleep on the couch. The call itself, is Lindsay showing up at her door with red eyes and a stuffy nose and Providence's heart drops to her toes.

Lindsay watches James, and Providence may break several traffic laws getting to the diner.

Geoff has a key, he's the only one who does. He's the only one she trusts with this, with her pride and joy and dreams.

She gets in, clutching her keyring in hand, and the first thing she sees is the empty space.  
Geoff and Jack, pressed tight together hand in hand with grief-stricken faces, head of the table as usual. Gavin is curled into himself, he'd been looking so good lately- finally growing into himself and his confidence. And Michael...

Michael looked ready to either cry, or tear the walls down, both...probably.

And then, there was the empty space.

The noise leaves her throat before she can stop it. And she's across the floor and has her arms wrapped around the first person she meets, which thankfully is Michael because the second she makes contact he makes this broken sound- like a wounded animal, and collapses into her side.   
She holds him, tight, and with all the grief she has ever felt piled into one.  
She says nothing, no one does. She feels hands press to her shoulder, she feels someone tuck into her side and knows its Gavin because Gavin doesn't cry, he just folds and she tugs him into the embrace and she closes her eyes because Michael keeps muttering and murmuring and whimpering between sobs.

Jack holds Geoff, Geoff who looks like the world is still falling out from under him. The man looks the most broken she's ever seen- utterly deflated, and tired...so tired.

They sit there and mourn, and she drags out the secret stash of liquor from the freezer, and they drink until the sun rises and casts its rays into the empty space of the booth.

* * *

  
The last thing she ever said to Ray, was, _"And here is where you'll stay."_

They were having their own coffee and pie night- in her living room. With Mario karts theme playing in front of them.   
It was quiet, and gentle, and dreamlike. He came over looking desperate for advice and she pulled out her mom mask and got to work.

He was terrified. Because he was absolutely certain he adored this crew. That there was nothing else for him.  
That he loved Ryan. He loved this life. And he had no idea what to do with Love.

He'd never wanted kids before, or a partner, or a home.  
But the diner was his home now, and he adored both James'.   
He missed his mother so much he cried, and he told her that somehow she made that pain lessen.

She told him to buck up. That this was real emotional growth young man and he laughed so hard his glasses went crooked.  
They played games, ate day old pie, and traded their stories.

She told him everything. Everything even Geoff didn't know. He told her the things No one knew. Not even Michael.

He told her, as they wound down and slumped into the couch cushions- that he would die for his family.  
She told him, that she wished he never had to. But that if anything ever happened to her, this crew was the only thing she would want for James to have.

Before he left, lighter and happier than the hours before- he said, "I can't think of a better name for you Mam. Geoff told me all about it, how you first met. 'Your waitress tonight was Providence..'"  
She just shrugged,"We all have a place somewhere."

He nods, and as the door swings in closer he says,"My place is here."  
And she nodded, and beamed, and said,"And here is where you'll stay."

* * *

  
The funeral was quiet, and somber, and no one cried. They had cried it all out that morning in the diner.  
They buried him in roses, and everyone smiled at the ridiculous request he made to be buried with a lighter in his pocket...they all sucked in a breath when Michel laid his sniper rifle to rest beside him.  
No one could bare to think of what would happen to it after, so they settled it with,"Nothing."

No one had seen Ryan in days.

They waited, and waited.  
And waited.

It took time, to explain to James that Uncle Ray wasn't going to be coming back home.   
"But he promised we'd play pokemon.."

Providence can't stop crying at the diner that day. Debbie just pats her arm and sits her down in the booth to wait for Michael and Jack to show up.

It's a month after, when Ryan comes home.

The diner is dead quiet. The sign says closed, but the door is unlocked. She's waiting every night, hopelessly waiting.  
The bell chimes, and she snaps her head up from mopping the floor.

He looks..so..hollow.

His eyes are distant and red-rimmed, black makeup smeared across his cheeks and neck. His jacket is torn, his hands bloody, his hair is chopped short and his trembling.  
She drops her mop and hugs him with every ounce of strength she has.  
He stands there, and trembles before he collapses. They sink to the floor and he wails into her shoulder, sunken and hollow and utterly broken.

They sob together, for hours and hours. James is with Lindsay and Michael tonight, so she doesn't worry.  
He sobs, and falls apart, and tries to close off but she won't allow it.  
She holds him and rocks him and hushes him.

When she can get him to breathe, to stand- she bustles him out of the diner, locks up, and takes him home.

* * *

  
Ryan is in ruins for months.  
He stays at her place, because he shared his with Ray and can't...he just CAN'T.

She washes him up that first night, calls Geoff, and then cuddles with him in her king sized bed until he falls into a restless and aggravated sleep.  
By morning, there are more bodies in her bed and she knows that- no matter what, they still have each other.

* * *

 

It takes so long. So so long, but eventually they move on.  
James is approximately eight, he's into numbers right now and approximations- when he makes a new friend.

The diner was kinda infamous now, and most crews knew better than to linger too long or get too rowdy when they visited.  
"That's her, 'Mam'. She's probably the most well-protected woman in this city... the only person the Kingpin will bow down too..."  
He never bows, but the curtsy is hilarious.

So, eventually, she should have expected her son to pick up her bad habits.

She's making a fresh pie, and loading it up into the display case when she notices J.D has moved from his usual spot at Their Booth- seemingly empty for now- and has barnacled himself in a booth across from the most garish looking man she's seen in a long time.

The guy looks young, has a cowboy hat perched on the table and is wearing some god awful color combination. his hair, is, neon, green.  
He's just gotten there, she would have noticed otherwise- and she takes her notepad with her when he sways on over.

For his part, J.D looks properly shy when she gives him The Look. And the guy looks equally shy when she directs it to him.  
"Mom! Look look!" he points at the hat and grins, gap-toothed and perfectly mastered childness. He's a tyrant.

She raises her brow and he grins bigger,"He says he got it from a real cowboy, while he traveled here from Boston, all the way!" he beams and her look just deepens and he's rambling because he knows he's not allowed to talk to strangers and certainly not "Interesting ones".

She gives him some kudos though, because he's still going. "And plays Pokemon too! But his favorite is Voltorb," he sneers and Jeremy returns it playfully, obviously the topic of the last few minutes of their rather excited conversation.

"So he's a trainer, neat."  
She says it primly, and while her son glows he also knows damn well that he's in trouble so he slinks back over to his booth- but promises to kick the guy's butt in a battle if he dares to show his face at the arena.

The guy looks genuinely pleased, accepts the challenge, and goes straight into groveling when her full attention is on him,"Ha...sorry uh...Mam... he's a good kid."  
She narrows her eyes, cants her hip, and settles a hand at her waist,"How old do I look to you."

The man's face goes stark white and he gapes like a sea bass.   
She's freshly thirty, and knows that the trials of keeping her crew fed and nursed up have at least given her a few stress wrinkles.

He seems to come up with something, and with a beautific gleam he clears his throat,"Why, you look as fresh and filled as the day you fell from the sky."

She jolts in shock, her mouth now gaping, before she starts laughing. Uproarious and completely attention consuming. J.D pokes his head over his seat and smiles their way, Providence keeps laughing until she slaps her hand down on the table, makes the guy jump a mile, and brightly proclaims,"I'm keeping you! 'Fresh and Fillied' oh my word!" she keeps laughing, right behind the corner counter. When she comes back, he looks absolutely bewildered, but happy enough to go along with it.

She throws down three plates onto his table: Fries extra crispy, a giant burger with a mess of relish and cheese, and a sizable piece of fresh 'Motley Crew' pie. she sets a tall glass of Lemonade down in a more gentle manner before she pats his shoulder and shakes her head. "Here you go sweetheart. On the house, only if you let him beat you and if you come up with another one of those next time you wander in here--" she deliberately pauses and he supplies after clearing his throat.

"Jeremy, I'm ...Jeremy. Lil J' works too."

"Lil' J! Even better!" she keeps laughing and swings around to her other patrons as the guy tucks in like he hasn't been able to afford decent meal sizes in a while.  
Debbie gives her a look, as best as she can with that watermelon squirming in her belly, and Providence shrugs.  
"What?" she says, watching her son diligently tapping away at his phone screen and getting that wonderful concentrated look on his face as Lil' J takes him for a wild ride before ultimately letting the eight-year-old kick his ass with a vaporeon.

Debbie grins,"You got that look."  
"What look?"  
"That looks that says 'Need some more tape and gauze, gotta put some meat on those bones, and we need more chairs'."

Providence laughs all the way home that day.

* * *

  
The first time the crew meets Lil' J, is coincidently, the first time he shows up much like they did so long ago.

Gavin, Jack, and Ryan are chowing down of some hot dogs and ice cream. Practically indulging in the summer heat.  
J.D is at school, and its quiet in the diner for now as the last of the civilian crowd gathers out and endures the heat. Poor souls.

The bell chimes, Providence calls out a greeting from under the counter scrounging for that damn pen...

When she looks up, she almost loses it again.

Jeremy is hunkering down in the farthest possible booth, pointedly trying to look even smaller than he normally does. His face, the whole face- is black and blue. His left eye looks swollen, his nose is clearly broken still- and his hands are poorly self-bandaged. He won't look towards the counter or other patrons, but is obviously looking to see if someone is following him. He looks completely lost and frightened and she doesn't even take a breath before shes rushing into the back, grabbing her whole bag of tricks- and marching back out into the dining room. Jack gets one look at her, looks across the diner, then reaches up and flips the Open/Close sign that rests above Their Booth.

Over the years, it just became easier to move the crew to a larger booth. Smacked dab in the middle of the diner and to the immediate left of the door. If it wasn't clear from rumors alone who ran in this diner, the front window was plenty enough proof.

Providence charges in with all the years practice bubbling out in waves.  
Jeremy looks up from his hands and shrinks down,"Oh...no it’s okay..." he goes to wave her off and cringes as his moves his wrist.   
So clearly there were plenty enough rumors drifting around about 'Mam'. The biggest being that she kept extra ice packs in the back and had the gentlest hands when it came to bandaging up broken kids.

She just shakes her head, "Scoot, now."  
He obeys, wincing the whole time and he's breathless when he slumps against the window, eyeing her suspiciously.

By now, her boys are watching and eyeing the stranger just as sussly.

With measured movements and experienced hands, she first takes his obvious injured arm and furrows her brows,"Where's the worst of it. Be honest here kid."  
The endearment makes him flinch, rough and sharp and it jerks his arm and he whimpers. She sees Ryan move and taps her foot twice.

"Sorry. It's alright sweetheart," she calls back to that first day. It's been a few since.  
He deflates, and his eyes water but he grits and bares it. "My legs...my legs all messed up. I can walk though so.."  
She hums and shakes her head,"You walk on a broken leg just fine when you're stubborn enough." she started unwinding the bandages and he doesn't look her in the face the entire time.  
Broken. Three fingers on the right hand, one on the left. Bruised to hell and back and shaking in her palms. She tsks and shakes her head and starts to carefully move his hand. He whimpers again, but now she fully sees how this will go.

There is no way in hell he's going to cry. He won't allow it. He's got this facade up and its crumbling, its rapidly falling apart and she already knows what’s happening before she speaks.

"Jack, honey, bring me my phone," she doesn’t raise her voice, doesn't want to startle her newest stray.  
He starts all the same, panic searing through him and making him jolt and then he's wheezing and collapsing against the table, uselessly holding his ribs and his leg is shaking.

By now, Gavin has wandered over and Jack's digging through her pile at the register.  
Ryan watches, carefully, behind his face paint and narrowed eyes. He doesn't wear the mask in here, but he does keep a low profile. With paint and hats and sunglasses.

At this point, she barely has normal patrons- so what’s it matter if the dress code went out the window.

Gavin sits opposite to them, rummages in the bag, and pulls out gauze, some splints and a large bottle of strong naproxen.  
"Fighter," he says, and Jeremy doesn't flinch this time.  
  
Jack hums in agreement, "Haven't seen hands like that since Michael's car broke."  
Gavin laughs, gently and light, and while he's obvious cautious and confused and not cool with being boxed in, Jeremy seemed to ease at the casual ease in which they speak at him.

Providence is on the phone in second,"Hey! Sorry for the late notice, yeah yeah I know you always got time," she shares a smile with Jack,"Mhm, okay so. I got someone who could really use a good lookin' at...yeah..mhm... you sure? Thanks, Cait." she snaps the call off and starts splinting and bandaging his hands. "Temporary, you need to have this set properly. You're getting your leg x-rayed and those ribs looked at." He's going t argue so she cuts him off at the pass, "This isn't up for debate sweetheart. You're getting in my car, you're coming with me, and you're going to tell me why you came here looking an inch from death..."

Jeremy shutters down and a complicated series of emotions ramble across his face, half concealed by the bruising and swelling.  
"You...your uh.." he starts, and his voice sounds shot.  
Maybe not a fighter, maybe just a survivor.

"I'm?" she echoes and starts bundling him up now. He's swallowed up in a too big hoodie and jeans and he's limping so heavily She actually gives in and supports him from the side.

"They call you "Queen".." he mumbles, slurring and obvious in lots of pain.

she frowns,"Queen?" Jack is stifling his giggles and Gavin is oddly quiet as he tags along, grabbing their stuff and all silently agreeing for Ryan to lock up and meet them later.

Jeremy nods," Mhm. You're the Queen Regent...mam" he mumbles and through the bruising she sees him flush.

Jack gives a guffaw, and Gavin titters, Providence just rolls her eyes,"I'm not...I'm not even that old!"

* * *

 

Jeremy has, in total: seven broken fingers, a fractured wrist, a broken nose, burst capillaries in his right eye, three broken ribs, his leg is broken in two different places and his knee is ravaged with strain, a concussion, and some serious guilt issues.

Caitie is amazing, and old friends with Jack. She ushers them into the hospital with ease and tucks them away in a waiting room while she proceeds to examine Jeremy.

He's a wreck, and won't say a goddamn thing as to WHY.   
He shuts down, stutters answers when asked about his pain levels and where hurts worse.

By the time their down, Providence feels ill, Gavin looks ill, and Jack has been texting Geoff for an hour. Michael shows up to take Gavin home, glances at Jeremy, then does a full comedic double take.

He gets this funny look on his face, and a whole host of past ghosts come swarming up. he grabs Gavin and flees quickly, Providence adds notes to her mental pad.

When all is said and down, Jeremy Dooley is placed directly in the back of her car and is under the strictest orders to reduce all movement.

She takes him to her home, she forces him to sit on the couch, and she quietly tells J.D that he's going to stay with aunt Lindsay tonight.

That very night, Jeremy is hobbling his way towards the door- looking for all the world like something is chasing him.  
It takes her soothing humming, some gently petting hands, and eventually sleeping pills to make him lay back down on the couch.

He keeps murmuring, mumbling desperately about names and things he was sorry for. She doesn't sleep much that night, or at all, actually.

* * *

Michael corners her the next day, Jack and Ryan are on watch because now Jeremy is official their business.

"He's a punching bag, a human punching bag." Michael fidgets and chews his lip,"Bottom of the pack, just something to be broken down and left to drag itself back together... its something of a tradition back east..." he frowns so deeply that Providence knows she'll need to get him a drink that night.

* * *

  
Jeremy is one of three "disposables".   
He's the brawler for a gang a few hours north. The names he keeps mumbling are the other two kids who got the shit end of the stick.

It takes three hours for Michael, Geoff, and Ryan to go north, wreck shit, and drag home two skinny looking men by their collars.  
Gavin took to Jeremy in an instant. Calling dibs on watching after him over and over again.   
And the next two, he folds in just as easily.

Matt, with long matted hair and too many bones visible he's so underweight and shy. Trevor is...Trevor is anger.   
She once thought Michael was a wildfire...Trevor is an atom bomb. Carefully tucked at the top of the shelf and just waiting for someone to knock it down accidentally.

They come along easy enough, but once they get in they refuse to move from Jeremy's side. There’s obvious history here, and Trevor looks for all the world like he's daring anything to tell him to move. Matt just eases himself down and tucks Jeremy's head into his lap, hands gentle petting through his hair and humming something vague.

Providence doesn't really know what to do with them.  
Geoff is dismantling their old gang, destroying it inside and out and leaving it in ruins.   
He pulls the kitchen chair up, sits down in front of them, and officially offers them the protection of The Fakes and affiliates.

"Affiliates.." Trevor echoes, sharp and smart and already Providence sees the cogs churning in Geoff's head.  
She leans out from behind him and waves,"I'm Team Mom supposedly."  
Trevor seems to relax with her confirmation- her gift to the world if it means staving off the napalm in his chest.  
Matt though still looks terrified," But...we aren't people you need to protect..."  
Jeremy stirs, hums, and wraps his arm around Matt's waist and buries his hand in the fabric of Trevor's new shirt.

The room hushes, then Providence smiles and shows her open palms,"If my kid likes him- and he likes you- then that's all we need."

\-- Said kid comes home two days later.

He zeros in on Jeremy and his ranting within a second of entering the house.  
She had informed him of the situation, he was old enough to understand now that his uncles got hurt sometimes- and he needed to know about the other houseguests.

He apparently takes only ever after his mother because he charges in and starts looking over Jeremy's bandages like he can do them better himself.

Matt seems startled, but of the pair, he seems to relax first, surprisingly. Trevor just watches wary and unsure as the kid huffs and fusses over his newest friend.  
Jeremy just grins, hold up one good thumb and one bad, "I bet I can beat you even with one thumb down."

The rest of the day is a mess of giggling and dumb taunts. Jeremy and Matt team up against J.D- and he still beats them. By now, she knows it’s because he's just good at the game and not because they let him win- because no one would let such a smug kid win so easily.  
J.D. Demands pizza, makes sure to get everyone's opinion on toppings and pineapple- then targets Trevor.

The guy is obviously bad at this, socializing that is. He's stunted as hell in keeping up the conversation, afraid to overstep...to hurt.  
But then, James decides to bring up space and it’s like Trevor does a full reverse turn.

A degree, a full degree in ROCKET SCIENCE. Trevor is even smarter than she had assumed, and now she knows Geoff won't be letting him go easily.  
As par the course, they settle in to watch some Alien- and J.D and Trevor cackle the entire time while Matt sneers and Jeremy dozes.

* * *

 

The following summer, it’s like a whole new world.

There was a weight, following the crew around. A ghost rather. Not a bad one, just the obvious empty presence it created.

The Booth is completely full and it’s stupidly great.  
Geoff and Jack are smushed together at the head of the tables, three now and they had to concede and move to keep out of other customers way.  
To Geoff's immediate Right is Gavin, then Jeremy, and then Trevor.

Trevor blossomed with some training, some management- and few late night sit-ins with pie and liquor to ply his story from him.  
Providence claimed that she now had many many sons and that someone was her favorite, but she'd never tell.

Matt sat to Jack's left, and he had finally put on a healthy amount of weight and had so many silly colors in his hair it was ridiculous. He laughed loud and long now and threw himself into the fray whereas he used to slink around the edges.

Jeremy though...Jeremy was the breath they needed.  
He stopped blaming himself, stopped apologizing. Started agitating and aggravating and grinning venomously when they came back from a successful heist.

He brought out a side to them that had been dormant too long.

He brought back Ryan.

Ryan sat opposite Jeremy, on Jack's side, constantly probing and kicking at him with delightful giggles and a wicked gleam in his eyes.  
The Battle Buddies were as dangerous as the entire crew compacted in two powerhouses.  
Ryan laughed, genuinely, and freely, for the first time in years and something in the air finally let go.

Michael and Lindsay head the other side of the Booth, face to face with matching rings affixed to their hands. Providence had been the official Mother of the ceremony and acted in as both of their mother's- going so far as to dance with each one. Geoff gave Lindsay away- everyone ate so much cake, and they all crashed at the dinner for the after party.  
Providence had a sneaking suspicion that sometime in the future, she'd need to start carrying more highchairs...hopefully.

She really was becoming their mom, not to mention her actual child.

J.D is nine now, and it baffles her. Truly it does.

He shoves himself into the fray and a part of her panics. Makes Geoff promise to keep him safe, by god don't let him get hurt, please.  
She drags Michael and Lindsay into the courthouse, to their careful panic- and uses them as witnesses because she officially makes the old guard of the crew her son's caregivers should anything happen to her.  
Michael cries...a good bit.

Definitely, need highchairs.

J.D sits right at the center, smushed between Geoff and Jack on days he can get there, but then rotating around the table as he so pleases.  
Life, life rotates just as easily.

* * *

 

Every year, at the exact same time each year- the gang pile into the diner and for a single day, the room is quiet.

Even the normal patrons notice, and something about the annuality of it seems to rub off because the more regular customers come in respectfully quiet and give their nods to the Booth before taking their seats.

It's always the same, the old dogs pile in back at their old spots. Jack and Geoff on either side with two extra chairs at the Booth. Gavin and Michael fill out the left side, and Ryan sits by the window on the right.  
The empty seat, it goes untouched.

It's not healthy, or maybe its just...how to mourn for them. A memorial.  
The new guys pile into the booth to the left, and respectfully keep to themselves while the rest sit and think.  
J.D has school, but he comes straightway to the dinner and he sits in the booth beside Trevor, they go over his math homework for an hour.

Now, it's been almost four years since Ray died.

Providence stands at the head, keeping her watchful eye on the Booth. Bringing them fresh coffee and a full pie of "Motley Crew".

Things go on like that for a while.  
Until of course, change comes.

* * *

  
It's graveyard shift, its been what... nine years...since she first opened the door to her collection of oddballs?  
She should expect the changes honestly.  
32 and she still gets some surprises.

She's working away, her cook laughing in the back at whatever is on the little TV.   
The bell chimes, and she looks up in time to see someone slink in and look around. It's raining that night, and he looks soaked. There's a warm spot, right in the middle of the diner and mostly settled over the regular Booth.

The guy just, he drags really, and sinks into the worn booth. Something in Providence flares, protective and defensive.  
But the guy pulls down his hood and shivers.

He's young, maybe below Trevor and Matt's age.   
God, he LOOKS a little like Trevor. Darker skin though, and his hair is flatter. He has large piercings in his ear and he fidgets with the sleeve of his hoodie, revealing a large tattoo that crawls up his arm.

She frowns, plucks up her pad, and hums as she approaches.   
He's staring out the window, watching the rain come down and when she sidles up to the table he doesn't immediately turn.

He does, after a minute, smiles and it pulls the corner of his eyes together.  
She smiles back, "Welcome to Mam's, what can I get for you?"

He fiddles with the menu, weighing his options. "Uh...just...some water and the grilled cheese please."

Cheapest on the menu, called it.

He's a quiet fellow, eats neatly and looking at the rain periodically. He takes no further time than necessary to eat, eating it seems to justify his taking up space in the diner and out of the rain.

He pays, leaves a small tip and she doesn't hold it against him.  
The cook goes home, she shuts it down and locks up- makes the walk to her car in the rain.

Someone hits her from behind.

She goes tumbling, knees scraping in the gravel and palms sliding into stones. She grits her teeth, its not her first rodeo.

Ryan trained her some, because he was worried and everyone else told him to.  
But she hadn't really had to use it, her reputation exceeded her apparently.

She's ready to tango, when their scuffling and shouting  
She turns, and makes out figures in the dim light, just outside of the streetlight- ballsy.  
Her head hurts, her legs hurt, and watches a glint catch in the dim light.

Someone cries out, someone grunts, and then someone shoves someone else off. Then there are big brown eyes in her view, hauling her up and urging her away quickly.   
"Diner" she slurs, and they take a sharp turn around.  
She sees the body on the ground and swallows the lump in her throat.

Her hands shake when she opens the door, she's being rushed in and then the door is shut and locked behind them.  
It's the same guy, thank god for that.

She stumbles, he helps her into a chair.  
She points to the counter,"Bag...now.."  
He follows up quick enough, pulling the convenient stash of emergency supplies up to the chair she's sitting in.

A sturdy rag pressed to the gash on her head, and her knees cleaned- jeans ripped right through, her Favorite pair too, ugh. She looks up and takes in her newest champion.  
He looks angry, calm angry. Like this doesn't surprise him, and neither does having killed someone. He looks angrier on her behalf, to be honest

"What’s your name?" her voice is steadier at least.  
"Alfredo" he replies casual, guarded, very tense.   
"Hm, well I'm Mam.." she gestures at the diner at large and his eyes go wide like saucers.  
She laughs,"Mhm...but the name is Providence so..."  
He chuckles and she quirks a brow.  
"Funny enough, I knew a Vigilance once." he looks out at the night and there are sirens in the distance. The diner is dark, and it’s hard to see them at the angle they sit. She doesn't worry about it. She's served her fair share of "cops" in this room.

Alfredo is, sweet. In the way that someone who grew up in this city can be.  
Weathered is the other word. Weathered and worn down like a knife, still lethal, but dulling each minute.  
They sit, they watch the lights roll up, the breath and watch a van come and go and watch the lights making funny shapes in the rain.

He clears his throat,"You're not crew." he says it simply, but there are all sorts of questions and statements there.  
She nods,"Not really. I just fed the hounds." She grins, and its the feral one she saves up for days like this  
He nods, a similar sort of gleam in his eye- "Yeah, yeah sounds about right. You know everyone thinks you're like, part saint and part devil right?"

"How so?" she adjusts her rags and checks her hands.

Alfredo shifts, suddenly uneasy.

"Way down, deep on the streets. They call you the Queen Regent..." she laughs and he shrugs, "It's true. They say, 'You need a place to rest and eat? Go to Mam's. She'll treat you right, but you gotta follow her rules. Step outline and you'll never leave alive'."  
She considers it, then shrugs,"I just own this place...didn't always. It just fit together..."

He shakes his head,"They think your some kind of, Devil...because all of the sudden The Fakes existed and it looked like they came ready made out of your doors..."  
She does laugh at that. Because wow, what a picture compared to the truth...although...

"Okay, so...fair point." she shrugs and he seems to go still, waiting for her next words.

"I didn't set them up, lord knows I had no idea what I was getting into back then. Almost ten years now, can you believe that? But back then, I was the only one who was willing to give them coffee and serve breakfast to two guys bleeding on the seats." she flexes her hands.  
"Every Time they came in, bruised and beaten- I left ice packs and pain pills on their table. It helped they tipped me like, most of their early heist money." They both chuckle at that.

"And then, they started coming in like strays. Guess I was just, along for the ride. Got to see folks like Golden Boy and Mogar come into their names- got to see what's under The Vagabonds skin..." at that Alfredo looks scared, and it occurs to her, he's scared of her.

"It doesn’t help, that enough bruises and I can't resist mother henning someone." she beams, wicked and dim in the darkness.  
"That's how I got Rimmy Tim, Treyco, and Axial. Three for one all because once I got it in my head to help someone, I can't be stopped."

He watches her, still frightened looking. "Your an average day Saint Margaret," he whispers, and the chuckle is harsher.

"Nope. I'm just very very true to form." she taps at the name tag on her shirt.

He nods, then shifts around awkwardly.

"So, Fredo...tell me about You."

* * *

 

Alfredo grew up on this streets. He doesn't run in a crew and desperately avoided the gangs.  
He lived off whatever job he could get, right up until his Mamma caught a fever and fell down dead.

Now he scraps, scrounges, and careens straight into whatever he needs to survive.

After that night, he shows up more frequently.  
He's wary, and apparently, he's got a healthy dose of fear in regards to Providence.  
But he's also, unwaveringly, loyal.

He doesn't sit at a booth, doesn't take up a corner table- he plops down in the stool seat to the right of the register.  
He's trying to find a new job, because he's brilliant with a computer hookup, and he's got legitimate tactical training somehow- but he's way to underknown and overqualified for the local crews he lives near.

So he's trying to go to school too- working on a masters degree someday, in various technical mumbo jumbos, focusing on security and data securing.   
He's completely self-taught- and loves to move.

He taps, fidgets, spins, and mumbles. For hours he could just sit, pouring over his book- and jostle.  
It's fresh energy, and Providence likes fresh faces coming in and always leading with,"Fine weather Ms. Margaret." followed with a shit-eating grin and the something a little more tamed.

The Crew notices, of course- but she never gives them any reason to ask. As far as they are concerned, the guy is just a new regular and has plenty of charisma.  
The shift though, when it comes, is tectonic.

Providence is making her rounds, humming and greeting people as she comes and goes.  
She got a busy house today, but The Booth seems a little sparse, J.D and Ryan are plugging away at a Gameboy, conspiring together. Ryan is in total civvies, face bare, and playing low in plain sight. Geoff and Jack are out of town, Gavin's doing some freelance work, and Michael declared it swimmy bevs day, so everyone else was indisposed.

Thing is, they tried hard not to leave Providence on her own when possible. Simply because days like these happened.

She was walking down the length of the dining room, scanning her lists and notepads and making small talk- Ryan and J.D fully immersed in their own little world and her new favorite regular chugging away at a complicated looking math book.   
There was, of course, a hitch.

The dining room had three parts: individual tables on the right of the diner, booths on the left, and the bar counter that ran the length of the room.  
Occupying two of her tables were some...interesting characters. Smarmy, to be blunt. They kept digging jabs at each other loudly and harassing Debbie, "Innocently".

Providence was making her way back around the counter, still on the tables side, when Goon One decides to lean in her way, fully blocking her path by sticking his legs in the way and leaning his arm on the bartop.  
She paused, eyed him and quirked a brow.

The guy was sneering, obviously finding himself entertaining, and assuming she did as well.  
"It's a little lonely, running this business yourself ain’t it missus..."  
She frowned, "Nope. I do better on my own..."  
He shook his head,"Nah, you need a good man to help, keep the peace." He leers and she reclines back from his tobacco breath.  
"What's a man good for that I can't do in less time." she sneers back, not at all liking his attitude.  
He obviously doesn't like hers and is apparently used to getting good service or something he thinks to be similar. "No need to be so rude, yesh, you must be batty to be talking smack to the leader of the Vups."

A solid three-second count,"The..What? I'm sorry I'm busy so..." she makes to go around and he stands tall, taller than her and trying to use it to intimidate her. It's obvious in a second that he' going to be obnoxious," Seriously-" she makes to push past and snags her arm, too tight grip making her teeth grit...

By now the diner has noticed, J.D has noticed, and Ryan has certainly noticed because she sees him glancing over and his face going hard very quickly as he makes to stand...

But suddenly, Mr.Vups Goon is lying ass first on the linoleum with literal bluebirds swimming around his head.  
Providence starts, not even sure when the movement began or ended, all she knows is that Alfredo is sneering down at the douche, his very big and complicated math book held in one tight hand, and the other making flexing motions.

The diner goes stock still. J.D is looking wildly worried, and Ryan is slowly sliding out of the booth.

"Sorry sir, but I'm afraid you and your pals are not being serviced here." Alfredo is dripping venom and ire, and his sleeves are rolled up ready to tussle...  
Except when the Goon's Goons rise up, one snags the other by the sleeve and starts stuttering rapidly.

"D-D-Diaz Los Muertos...." he shakes out and suddenly the Goons look very anxious, scurrying out with or without their valiant leader who jolts back to life and looks up with the fear of God in his eyes.  
"Oh...oh god.." he wheezes before high tailing it, half crawling out of the diner and Sprinting away.

Providence watches them go more than confused, then feels a gentle touch and turns back to see Alfredo frowning over her arm,"What a prick" he sighs and shows her the sudden bruises on her wrist. She shrugs, and Ryan is Lurking, "Well- not as bad as being hit in the head right?" she practically sparks- and he returns the jab with an equally inside grin.

"Certainly not Mrs. Margaret." he turns and begins bundling away his books and papers. "But I guess I oughta be going now, don't wanna cause you no trouble." he hums, and it is eerie and quiet and for the first time since meeting him, Providence is aware that this boy is very, very dangerous. It's deja vu, and the first person she got this feeling from is standing at her right.

  
Alfredo tips head to her, gives a two finger salute, and the tattoo on his arm catches the light.

It's a sugar skull, proper and traditional and very bright. It sits primly in the center of his wrist, right above the heartlines. Beneath the skull, smiling morbidly and making her skin prick- there’s an old school 50. caliber bullet with a name carved into it.  
She catches the name as he turns, and it says, "Diaz" and she shivers.

He casually strolls out, and the diner takes a collective breath.

Ryan pulls her over to the booth J.D fusses over her arm and Ryan gives her a very serious look.

"When, the HELL" he glances over as J.D hmphs, "Did you make nice with the grim damn reaper."

Providence considers, then grins, all sharp teeth and wicked gleams, "The night you decided to wander in at two am and become besties with my one-year-old."

J.D looks up again, and its startling how similar their grins are.

* * *

 

The Day of Death.

She somehow, endeared herself, to the most well-known underground sniper of this city's seediest underworld.  
And, he was Terrified, of her.

That seems to catch Geoff off guard, and the made him considerate.  
"You said he was looking for a job..."  
She nods, he nods back. "Give him my number next time you see him."

* * *

 

The next time she sees him, someone just tried to strangle her.  
She parks closer now, wary, gets a bad feeling and tries to retroactively work around it.

The attacked gets her just as she unlocks the car, a garrote- and she suddenly misses the smell of rain and cotton.  
Next thing she knows, she's free, gasping her air- and watching a familiar figure slamming a strangers head into the side of her car. The body slumps, but its still twitching.

Alfredo snaps to attention, and he's feral. Livid. Agitation and Fury unbridled.  
He pulls the wire away, gently rubs at her neck to coax circulation to the slightly bloody wound- then in a smooth turn, something out of her nightmares, he levels his eyes back on the body.

"Call your guys. There's a hit out on you... " he pulls something from his pocket and starts to zip tie the attacker's arms and legs together- multiple times in different ways, impossible to escape and wildly uncomfortable.  
She doesn't question it, she's got Geoff on the phone and half whispering half coughing out that she needs a guard right now.  
Of course, he sends Ryan and Jeremy.

Until then, Fredo tucks her into the safety below the line of sight, pressed to the side of her car. He hauls the masked guy up, makes grabby hands at her keys, and the locks the guy in her trunk.  
"Give me till tomorrow...I'll know who's out for your head." he nods as a car comes careening down the rod, hand flying to his side to an unseen gun but she waves it off. She knows that dumb glow anywhere...bright purple led lights on the misty road.

They're loaded for bear, and she wobbles when Alfredo helps her up.  
She taps the car, "Don't bother being nice to her, got a bad ac anyways."

He beams at her, wild and untameable and she realizes that this is what Ryan could have been without the crew to anchor him down.  
The battle buddies take either side, eyeing her companion suspiciously until a muffled thump hits their ears.

Fredo for his part looks tediously annoyed,"Old Mill, three miles south of the airport, if you're interested.." he directs the statement to the blank face of the Vagabond's mask.  
Ryan nods, leads Providence to the car, and then the waiting begins...

* * *

 

As promised, Fredo shows up at the penthouse door at 10 am on the dot, escorted by the Vagabond- and painstakingly tidied up.  
Everyone can smell the bleach on his skin, and the clothes look brand new.

"The guy's name is Shulks, he ordered your head on a silver platter about...two weeks ago." He nods once, and she returns it,"Bad aim," she offers and he grins sharply.

Geoff looks confused so she explains, and then everyone is looking very very irate.  
Heads snap to eye Alfredo, and then the hackles start falling when Providence explains what happened to her last attacker.

It takes them three weeks, careful surveillance, and very awkward skulking to clear the county and make it clear that the Queen is protected.

* * *

  
The transition is not smooth.   
It's not even violent.

They go right back to how they were. The crew in the Booth, Death sitting at her bar.   
Sometimes, they talk. Rarely. It seems everyone has a healthy sense of suss about Fredo, and are wary to approach.  
But it’s also very clear that Alfredo looks to Providence like she really is a sanctified demon.

Something in her mind reminds her of an old lullaby, something heavy and lonesome.  
And then she remembers a night so long ago.

The city has a king, Geoff commands respect and fear and loyalty.  
There’s his Knight, Jack in all his righteous glory.  
The Jester Prince, She'd call him Jack but Knave works better- Gavin not only grew into himself he completely flourished.  
The Loyal Blood, Michael was calmer- but still burned with devotion to Geoff.  
The Rebel, the Rogue- Jeremy and Matt filled and smoothed down the gaps, Matt was godly at procurement and Jeremy had a very low loss rate.  
The Alchemist, it was clear as day to her, Geoff was training Trevor. Preparing him for something.  
Lindsay was a wild card, and currently out of commission on account of her own pie baking in the oven.  
And Ryan. Ryan was Judge and Executioner. His loyalties were tied to his crew and to the woman who sheltered him at his worst.  
But, what they didn't have, was an Assassin.

Even Ryan had his limits. His stopping points. Michael eventually got tired and Trevor could rework his fury into schematics.

But Alfredo...if Michael was wildfire, Trevor napalm,   
Then Alfredo is a dying star. Something cataclysmic and all-consuming, and at the very cusp of rebirthing something glorious and resplendent.

He needed direction, needed a cause. Needed something to anchor him down. Fear was good for a while, and he was still terrified of her for some reason.   
But it wouldn't last forever...  
It seemed, that it needn't.

* * *

 

Someone tried to grab her kid.  
Some up and comers that thought they could weaken the team by nabbing the kid and demanding ransom for his life.

They all watched the screen, the video replaying- their pure rage bubbling at the surface.  
Providence was seething, utterly enraptured in her fury and fear.

Geoff hummed, clearly just as incandescent.  
He turned to Fredo and Ryan,"Think you can get him..."  
A nod, Fredo's eyes yet to leave the screen.

"Alright. Get him back."

* * *

  
Ryan came home with a tired looking twelve-year-old on his back. J.D was perfectly fine, a little worn but happy to tuck into his Mom’s side and sleep.  
The question went unspoken.

They waited, patiently, and when morning came up- a knock came swift on the door.

Alfredo was literally covered in blood. He was dry, but every inch of him was painted.  
Even Ryan seemed to shy away, something very close to terror filling his eyes as he slowly slid off the mask and stared wide-eyed at the man he'd left behind only six hours ago.  
Geoff didn't move, eyes unwavering. Assessing, processing.

Providence stood, the room stilled.  
She took four large steps, stopped in front of the heavily breathing boy.  
He was bellowing out from his nose, there were wounds here and there but it was clear the blood wasn't his own.  
Unwaveringly loyal.

A voice comes back to her...  
 _"My place is here...I'd die for these people." I'd Kill For Them._

She raises a hand, gentle cups his face, turns it either way and tsks,"Shower. Take as long as you need. You look about Trevor's size.." at her words the startled man slinks off, not taking his eyes off the other but hurrying to get clothes.  
She hums, approvingly, and the younger man's shoulder sags at the sound.   
"J.D is fine, shaken and tired... I take it this won't be a repeat performance..."  
He shakes his head,"No Mam."

The words send a shock through the room.   
And for the first time, maybe truly the first in eleven years- they're properly afraid of Her.

She sends Alfredo off, he lumbers away, bone weary and drooping with each step towards a warm shower and soft bed.  
Geoff nods, his own approval, sends off a few texts- and locks up.

* * *

 

Twelve years.   
It's been twelve years since she first charged bull-headed into the thick of it.

Geoff is revered now, a God amongst Kings.   
His crew is the most infamous of an age. The kind of infamy that she knows will be in her son's textbook.

The Booth is now two. Split between Old Guard and New Blood. The mirror image is hilarious.

Geoff and Jack sit either side of the first Booth, right back where they started. Casually leaning against the table and window.  
To Geoff's right, is Gavin and then Michael. Michael sits in the extra chair at the end, bouncing a bright-eyed baby on his knee, beside him Lindsay is standing and cooing at her daughter sweetly. For the foreseeable future, they're retired. Just till they get settled.   
To Jack's left, is Jeremy and then Ryan on the end chair. Jeremy eventually finally fell into the gap one year, and ever since the quiet days drifted far into memory.  
Ryan is settled now, calm and precise in a way his mind couldn't reach when he first wandered in here scattered and bloodstained.

And the other table, it follows up.  
Trevor sits on the right side, subconsciously mimicking Geoff's relaxed posture. It's extremely precise, carefully crafted ease. It puts him in control. In front of him is Matt, texting away and securing something or another for the next heist.  
To Trevor's right is J.D- and that’s just something she came to terms with a while ago.   
Next to J.D is Alfredo, something else she came to terms with.

It seemed, that the two most dangerous men in the world- both saw her son as a little brother.

Alfredo isn't calm, not yet. He's only barely restrained. But he jokes more, he laughs freely. He relaxes into the warmth of the sun and conversation. She sees his sharp angles curl protectively around his charge and his boss. Across from them are the newer additions- Larry sits to Matt's left and he's giving him some kind of advice over the shoulder. And then sitting in the extra chair next to Alfredo is Steffie. She's smart as a whip and the kind of resource agent they needed a long time ago.

 

Providence watches, her place behind the counter when she's not wandering the floor.  
She'll be 35, and she has more rumors and whispers behind her back than her own past.  
They call her 'Queen Regent', 'Mam', and 'Madre de Muertos'.   
She owns the diner on the corner of Fifth and Paisley, her goddaughter is a demon in angel form, and she calls some of the most dangerous men in the world her boys.

She is not a woman to be slighted.   
She never backed down, never stopped, rolled with the hits and bares her scars on an open throat, daring the world to take a hit.  
She has survived death, loss, and life.

When the bell chimes, a tall figure slides into the diner and sits herself down neatly at the counter. Providence smiles and with a flourish she has her notepad out, she gives her signature grin and opens with,"Welcome to Mam's, what can I get you, angel."  
The woman pauses, then she starts chuckling, rich and deep and Providence feels her grin grow.  
"I wouldn't say angel, but I guess if the name fits..." she's got on a uniform, official and businesses like and her nametag is neatly pinned in place.

It says, in absolute honest coincidence, 'Angelica'.  
Providence just grins, wicked gleam.  
"Well, guess I just got lucky."

 


End file.
